by Adrian Cole
'What are you doing?’ Brannog asked.
'Take your axe. Remove this evil.’
Brannog gasped and Sisipher clutched at her throat. ‘Father, you cannot—”
'Silence, girl!’ snapped Wargallow, his face white. ‘Do it, Brannog. You have the right. It is the hand of a murderer.’
Brannog shook his head. ‘No.’
Wargallow looked up at him, stunned. ‘Why not?’
'Your crimes may be many. I cannot remove them so easily. You must carry that arm with you. Let it be a reminder of what has been.’
Wargallow sagged back. He nodded. ‘So be it.’
For a time there was silence. Wargallow again broke it. ‘Where will you go now?’
'To find other Earthwrought tribes,’ said Brannog. ‘Their rulers must be taught to trust us.’
Sisipher leaned over Ratillic. ‘He wakes.’
Ratillic's hand unexpectedly found hers, but his grip was very weak. Ruan entered and stood watching them.
'What must we do for you?’ Sisipher asked the Hierophant.
'Nothing for me. For yourselves. Your strength is in your concord.’ He tried to form more words, as though there was something specific he wanted to say to the girl, but the effort was too much for him. There was a brief shudder and it was over.
Sisipher sat back, shaking her head.
Ruan had come forward and he pulled a blanket over Ratillic while the others looked on in silence. ‘Strange to think that he and Korbillian, men from another world, gave their lives for Omara. It is a difficult mantle they have passed on to us.’
'Are we worthy of it?’ said Brannog.
Wargallow motioned Ruan to him, and the young man went. Wargallow pointed to another room. There were steps down in to it and a tiny fountain that the Earthwrought had repaired. Beside this sat a solitary figure, gazing across the square outside the room to where the sands curved away. It was Guile.
'You think him fit to rule an Empire, Ruan?’ Wargallow asked softly.
Ruan and the Deliverer moved away discreetly, leaving Guile to his thoughts. ‘He carries the hopes of more people than you might think,’ replied the soldier. ‘But he must decide now. We built slowly under Elberon.’
Wargallow permitted himself an understanding grin. ‘You will go on, I am sure. At least you have allies now. Korbillian achieved that for us.’
Sisipher also wanted to be alone for a while, and found herself drawn by the gentle play of the fountain. She did not see Guile until she was almost upon him. At once she made to leave.
'Wait!’ he called, noticing her, and she turned, though she would not look at him. He searched for the words he had to say to her, struggling. ‘You will never forgive me for killing the boy,’ he said at last.
He thought at first she would pour scorn upon him, seeing the anger in her face, but then she gave a great, shuddering sigh. ‘It is done. Xennidhum filled us all with something dark, turning it upon each other.’
'I fear,’ he replied, ‘that it drew from us the darkness that already dwelt within us. For me, that was true. I can see myself now. Elberon despised me for what happened—”
'I don't think so,’ she said gently, for the first time able to feel sympathy for him. ‘None of us is so pure. I was also to blame for Wolgren's death.’
He began to protest.
'No, listen,’ she insisted. ‘I knew how much he loved me. I enjoyed his worship. I even used it a little. Not once did I make it clear to him that I could never return his love. Xennidhum was like a living thing that knew all our thoughts. It used them cruelly. It used Wolgren's jealousy to begin the fight that killed him. Had he known his love for me was wasted, he would never have become so jealous.’
'Then perhaps you can forgive me for his death.’
She nodded, her hands touching the waters of the fountain. ‘I must.’
'There is another thing,’ he said, hesitantly. ‘But I do not ask forgiveness for it.’
'We were all manipulated.’
'Yes, but you must hear me. After the boy's death, I tried to throw an Empire at your feet. I did it out of blind fear. I sought to flatter you with a lie. I understand now how it insulted you. It is easy to say that Xennidhum corrupted me, but in my heart I know that it was the act of a coward.’
To his great surprise, she smiled, tossing back her dark hair. She was a woman, but how easily he could see the goddess in her, those powers that were her inheritance. ‘I was furious,’ she agreed. ‘But an Empire! Few women would turn down such a gift! Perhaps I should have accepted,’ she laughed, trying to lighten his shame.
'I am glad that you spoke as you did.’
'Let's not talk of it again,’ she said more seriously. ‘But what will you do now?’
He looked out at the desert. ‘Where to begin? Goldenisle is sick, doomed to collapse, unless Quanar can be overthrown. If only the Empire could be made strong, the world would not need to fear Xennidhum again. But it will take time. My destiny is there, though without Morric, I despair.’ He closed his eyes for a moment.
'Take heart,’ she said as she left him. ‘The worst must be over.’
Wargallow and Ruan were deep in conversation with her father when she came across them. She smiled and left them to their fresh plans, going to the waiting wolves.
'One day soon,’ she overheard the Deliverer say, ‘I shall ride back to Xennidhum.’
Brannog nodded. ‘When you do, be sure to have word sent to me.’
EPILOGUE
A year had passed since the survivors of the flight from Xennidhum had returned. Sisipher leaned on a balustrade, high up in the tower that was one of the many built by the Earthwrought not far from the edge of the Silences. She watched the skies, knowing that the great white owl, Kirrikree, would be here to make the rendezvous soon. As she looked, seeing the familiar heat haze rising from the desert, she reflected on the terrifying events of her journey to and from the city of the remote plateau. She and the survivors had worked tirelessly since their escape to ensure that the desert was closely watched. Kirrikree brought monthly reports of how the perimeters of the desert were patrolled, and of the difficulties there were in policing them. The circle of the watch had almost been closed.
Sisipher thought of those who got away, and of the army that had not returned. She thought also of her father, who was now far to the south, guided by the little folk from tribe to tribe, Earthwise to Earthwise, spreading the word of the battle and of the danger yet in Xennidhum. Already the first of the Earthwrought tribes were beginning to venture to the surface, although it would be many years before the ‘overmen’ would be trusted by them, or before many of them could accept the little folk.
Behind the girl, the three wolves that had spread themselves in the shadows like hounds to avoid the heat, lifted their heads and growled uniformly. Sisipher soothed them with a gentle word, knowing by their thoughts that Kirrikree was near. In a moment he dropped from the sky and was beside her. They did not exchange pleasantries, even though they had not met for a month, but there was no need; between them now passed an unspoken understanding, a deep bond.
'The work progresses well,’ he told her. ‘There are now very few areas of the desert edge that are not watched constantly. We have found very little hostility on the far eastern slopes of the Silences. Already there is strong evidence that the seeping of evil power has ceased. In places it has retreated. Korbillian spoke of an illness: now he would speak of convalescence.’
'That's wonderful!’ said Sisipher.
'I hear word that your father has established another village above ground. The Earthwrought nation is far greater than anyone could have known. Brannog complains that he is no god, though his name goes before him.’
Sisipher laughed. ‘Which is why I would not go with him. I think that all of us who came back from Xennidhum are considered more powerful than we are. How does Guile fare? And Ruan?’
'If Guile's men continue as they are doing, they will soon have
raised a city on the Camonile delta! They have found an excellent site. Trade flourishes, particularly with Strangarth. And here is news that will cheer you: there is a rumour, and I think it is more than that, that Ruan is to wed one of Strangarth's daughters. Certainly Ruan has visited the king far more often than one would have thought politically necessary. And Strangarth's brood is all hot-tempered and fierce! If Ruan is wooing this vixen, he must be much taken with her!’
Again Sisipher laughed, and the owl reflected on how beautiful she looked now. She should spend more time in these new kingdoms. Visiting the towers, watching the desert was no task for such a girl. She seemed afraid to face herself, hiding her thoughts from him.
'You approve, Kirrikree?’ She had to repeat the question.
'Of course! Such a union will strengthen Guile's position here. Ruan has become a young man of some stature. He controls men with the same natural skill as did Elberon. In years to come, he will not be unlike him. Already the warriors respect him, even the veterans of Xennidhum.’
'Does Guile still speak of Goldenisle?’
'Neither he nor Ruan are eager to go to war. This is a new world. New trading routes are opening up with the lands to the south. But Guile yet has it in mind to overthrow his cousin. Xennidhum acted on him like a poison, but his system is clearing itself. When he is ready, I am certain he will move. Men still come from the west, and they stay in the new city.’
'Has it a name?’
'Yes. They call it Elberon.’
Sisipher nodded, delighted with his news. After a pause, she turned to glance at the mountains behind her in the west. ‘And Wargallow?’
'I have visited him. The Direkeep remains a place apart, but Wargallow has the most onerous task of all, to bring the Deliverers away from the dark faith of Grenndak. But he is strong and has many followers.’
'Perhaps he was the strongest of us all.’
'In time, perhaps, he will allow himself to emerge from his grim mission. He maintains contact with Guile, and with Ruan. Strange, but he and Ruan share a certain respect. It is no bad thing.’
'What of his ambitions, Kirrikree? What is his real goal?’
'I have often thought that Wargallow's world suffered a greater shock than any of ours. Once, like Guile, he sought to use Korbillian's power, certainly to gain by it. But he sees the changing world. I do not think he will become an enemy.’
I could look, she thought, inadvertently. See what will become of us all. No, I have taken an oath never to use my gift.
'And you, mistress?’
She stared at his intense gaze. ‘I think I will leave this tower soon, and go on a journey,’ she told him. ‘If there is to be a wedding, I want to be there.’
Kirrikree saw her laugh once more, staring up at the clear skies, and something moved within him, a weight passing.
Sisipher glanced down at the desert. She had seen the face there, the face that haunted her dreams once with its pain, but it had been no more than a mirage, and the huge figure that she had watched climb up out of the rocks was a trick, a shadow. It could be no more than that. Her vigil was over.
* * * *
At that same moment, Simon Wargallow also looked up at the skies, from a high tower of the Direkeep. His own work was almost complete, although he wondered if it would be possible ever to rid the place of Grenndak's presence. Too many Deliverers remained silent about Grenndak's passing, now an open truth. Wargallow could not hope to win them all. Even so, perhaps one day he would see the keep leveled. He yet thought of the Preserver with deep bitterness. It was a hatred that stretched back many years to the time when he had been little more than a novice in the fellowship of the keep, before he had earned his purifying steel. He had first learned then how Grenndak the god enjoyed mortal girls, and how some of those girls had disappeared when he had finished abusing them. His own sister—he saw her yet. But he snapped off the memory. Now was a time for hardness. But he had avenged her, his one regret being that he had not made the first cut.
Slowly his dark mood shifted as he thought of Sisipher, reminded of her by his sister's memory, for the two were not unalike. He wondered how the girl fared. Kirrikree had visited him since his return to the keep, and although he could not communicate with the magnificent bird, he sensed that it meant him to see it as a reminder of what had passed and that he had obligations to Omara before himself.
I must visit Guile and Ruan soon, he mused. They may yet plan a campaign against the Chain, though it will be some time before they have the troops. Yes, a private visit. First, though, Wargallow had to ensure that his position here was strong. The last of those who would use Grenndak's death as a weapon to oust him must be removed. The direct methods still had to be applied. He held his killing steel close to him beneath his robe. Ah, Brannog, you should have cut it from me. Its work is not yet done. But then, where there is poison in the blood, a surgeon must cut it out.
He looked again at the sky, as he did so knowing full well that it was in the hope that the great white bird would come gliding down again. He could think of no more welcome a sight.
* * *
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